


Bite Sized: Stevetony

by pensversusswords



Series: Bite Sized [1]
Category: 1872 (Marvel Comics), Avengers Academy (Video Game), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, M/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:43:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 20,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3959716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensversusswords/pseuds/pensversusswords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of blurbs I've written and posted on tumblr; those of which are under 1k. Info on each fic at the beginning of each chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Somersault Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> None of these fics are related, they are all standalone fics that are just posted here as a collection. Enjoy! 
> 
> [My tumblr](http://pensversusswords.tumblr.com), where I take prompts and all the fun stuff happens.
> 
> Notes on this fic: 
> 
> Steve and Tony try the somersault kiss. Pure fluff. (Also, side note, the first stevetony fic I ever wrote. takes me back :')) 
> 
> Rating - G

 Steve explained, stifling a laugh at the sight of his boyfriend doubled over with his arms flailing out behind him.

“Don’t you dare laugh at me Cap, this was _your_  stupid idea and I’m pretty sure you only suggested it because you wanted to make me look like an idiot like always,” Tony retorted from his upside down position.

"Not true,” Steve protested with a grin he couldn’t see, and rolled his eyes. “I just want to try it, it looks cute.”

“ _Cute?”_  Tony sputtered, and due to his current position it was rather endearing and dorky rather than intimidating.”I’m Iron Man for fuck’s sake, I can’t diminish my reputation like this just because you think it would be cute, I don’t care if you’re my boyfriend, this is just not acceptable…”

“Tony,” Steve sighed, “shut up.”

Tony harrumphed, but fell somewhat silent, continuing to grumble incoherently under his  breath; due to his enhanced hearing, Steve was able to make out words like “freaking superhero” and “saved the world thirteen times.” Steve just shook his head and bit back another laugh as shuffled over to stand in front of Tony. I bent over him, and wiggled his hands in front of Tony’s face. “Here, grab my hands.”

“You’re going to drop me,” he groaned, but laced his fingers through Steve’s anyways.

“I won’t drop you,” Steve murmured as he braced himself. “You ready?”

“If you drop me you owe me all of your movie night choices for the next month.”

“Sure, Tony,” he agreed, shaking his head. As if he’d ever drop him.

“Okay. Fine. Go ahead.”

“One… Two… Three.”

Steve hauled him up the way he’d seen on the internet, flipping him over pulling him against his chest, which prompted a rather undignified squeak from Tony. He automatically wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist, gripping his hands so tightly that Steve could feel his nails biting into his skin. When they were face to face, the redness in Tony’s cheeks and the way his eyes were as wide as saucers was so comical that Steve couldn’t help but let out a bark of laughter.

Tony opened his mouth, probably to say something sarcastic or to protest loudly at Steve’s laughter, but he was silenced suddenly by soft lips pressing against his own, stealing the words from his lips. Steve reached up and wrapped Tony’s arms around his neck, and planted his hands firmly on his waist.

When he drew away, he was smiling and Tony looked a little bit dazed.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, right?” he murmured, bumping their noses together.

“You’re such a sap, Rogers.”

Steve just nodded, grinned, and kissed him again.

“Did you get it?”

Steve broke the kiss at the sound of the voice from the other side of the room, whipping his head around to see two figures skulking in the doorway of the rec room. Clint was smirking behind his hand as he peered over Natasha’s shoulder, who was holding up her phone in front of her, a matching smirk on her own face.  

“I’m going to kill you two,” Tony growled, and started to disentangle himself as the two spies waved and dashed away, both of them laughing hysterically.

“Tony?” Steve said in a low voice, his grip on his waist tightening slightly. “Do you think making their lives miserable could wait a while?”

Tony willingly turned back to him, and gave a begrudging sigh as he threaded his fingers through Steve’s hair at the nape of his neck.

“Fine,” he conceded, and leaned in to kiss him again. 


	2. Supersoldiers Are Kinda Jumpy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Tony jumps out from behind a door to scare Steve. 
> 
> Rating - G

Steve’s heart was still racing, his startled yelp still ringing in his ears as he spun around to glare at Tony.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said quietly, trying to be at least somewhat ominous considering that Tony had just jumped out from behind a door as he made his way to the common room, and scared him senseless. Tony looked utterly guiltless, and was biting down on the inside of his cheek to unsuccessfuly cover up an impish grin. A challenge and a sort of smugness sparkled in his eyes. 

“What are you gonna do about it, old man?” he asked, his voice teasing and still ever so smug. It wasn’t very often he caught Steve unaware like that, and it was obvious he was more than a little proud of himself. 

Well, Steve certainly couldn’t let himself go unavenged.   

In a flash, Steve darted forward and grasped Tony firmly by the circle of his waist, hoisting him up like he was light as a feather. He threw Tony unceremoniously over his shoulder, eliciting a squawk of protest from the brunet who, in a whirlwind of flailing limbs, was suddenly being carried like a sack of potatoes. 

He made a disgruntled noise of approval, butting his forehead against the small of Steve’s back. “Put me down, Rogers, or so help me God, I will sic Dummy on you.”

“No you won’t,” Steve replied cheerfully, making his way across the common area, heading determinedly in the general direction of their room. “Plus, Dummy loves me.”

“Well he loves me more,” Tony protested. The probably made a strange sight, yet not shocking, considering the insanity that normally occurred in their household. Steve strolled along with Tony slung helplessly over his shoulders, arms braced around the backs of his knees while Tony craned his neck to glare up at the back of Steve’s head. They passed an amused Clint and Natasha who were sitting on the couch, both of them glancing up with mild curiosity. 

“Help?” Tony asked feebly.

“Not a chance,” Clint told him. Natasha just shook her head, the curve of her lips betraying her amusement. 

“I hope you both know whatever happens to me now is all your fault,” Tony called out after them as he was carted out of the room. Steve rolled his eyes and smirked. For all the loud complaining, Tony was very halfheartedly resisting his current predicament. 

Just as the two assassins faded out of earshot, Steve could hear Clint grumble, “I don’t want to have anything to do with whatever they get up to in there.”

Steve imagined that no, he would not. 


	3. Handcuffs and Naked Billionaires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Tony calls Steve when he finds himself handcuffed to the bed for unidentified reasons.
> 
> Rating - M

“What do you mean you’re handcuffed to the bed?” Steve ducked his head and leaned away from the conversation going on in the room. Even when he turned his back, he could still feel Fury’s eyes boring into his back. Maybe the middle of a debriefing wasn’t the best time to pick up a call, but Tony had called him four times. It could’ve been an emergency. 

This wasn’t the kind of emergency he’d expected.

“This isn’t a joke Steve, I am handcuffed to the bed.”

“I didn’t laugh!”

“You want to though.”

“No, I - Well, can you blame me? You’re stuck to a bed.”

“I am.”

“Is no one else home?” He asked, even though he was already standing up and grabbing his coat, ignoring the glaring he got as he slipped out of the room. Call it instinct or what have you, but he obviously had to go _help_.

Tony makes a grumbly noise before responding. “Yes, people are home.”

“But you called me?”

“Sure did, Cap. Don’t ask why. Please.”

“Why?”

Tony made a frustrated sound. When he spoke, it came out hurried and smushed together, like he couldn’t get it out fast enough. “I’m naked, Steve, now get your ass over here.”

Now Steve did laugh, and shook his head. He was in the elevator now, finally alone, and it was probably a good thing considering they had now gotten onto the topic of Tony naked and handcuffed. 

“You’re laughing.”

“Sorry,” Steve apologized, still grinning widely. He was sure Tony could still hear it in his voice. “It’s not funny. At all.”

“It isn’t,” Tony grouched. Steve could hear the clanking of metal in the background. He had to stifle another laugh.

Instead of laughing again, he asked, “are you gonna tell me how it happened?”

“Nope.”

“Are you…” Steve paused, looked around and then felt like an idiot for it because he was very obviously still alone. He just didn’t want anyone else but tony to hear what he was about to say next. “Are you going to make me unlock you as soon as I get there?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Steve bit at his lower lip somewhat anxiously, and shoved his free hand that wasn't cradling the phone to his face into his pocket. 

When Tony spoke again, his voice sounded a bit strangled. “What’d you have in mind, Rogers?”

Steve cleared his throat lightly. “I, uh. Was thinking I could show you.”

Another pause. Then; “hurry up Steve or I’m starting without you,” and the line went dead. 

 Suddenly, the elevator didn’t seem to be going fast enough. 


	4. He's the Boss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Tony calls Steve the boss. It's canon, and has more than one implication. 
> 
> Rating - M

“Actually,” Tony says, “he’s the boss.” 

That’s about all Steve hearsbefore his ears are ringing and he could feel heat staining his cheeks. Tony, of course, doesn’t even look at him, but Steve knows that he’s aware of what he’s done.

The first time Tony called him that, they were shedding clothes as they stumbled towards a bed - a guest room, because  they couldn’t even make it to one of their own - and Steve’s hands had been roving across the bare expanse of his back, enjoying the feeling of lean muscle and soft flesh under his fingertips. Tony had been clinging to his shoulders, fingertips digging into him and his mouth hot and feverish as he sucked a mark into his neck. Steve had been suppressing a guttural groan and was attempting to get Tony into that bed as soon as possible when -

“So, what are you going to do with me, boss?” Tony said, abandoning his neck to murmur into his ear, his voice gravelly and breathless.

Steve froze. His fingers stilled where they were running a line up Tony’s spine, and his breath caught in his throat.

Then, Tony paired the question with a light nip to his earlobe, and before Steve could fully process what he was doing, a low, lust ridden growl tore from his lips. He grasped Tony’s thighs and hoisted him up. Tony made a pleased noise, and immediately wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist. Only a moment later they were sprawled across the bed, Steve having all but thrown Tony there, kissing feverishly with Steve hovering over him with his arms braced on either side of his head, fingers of one hand wound tightly in Tony’s hair.  

He’d broken the kiss for a brief moment, just to look at Tony breathless beneath him, with pupils blown and bathed in the faint glow from the reactor.

“How about I show you what I’m going to do with you?” he’d rasped, fingers curling tightly in the soft tresses of Tony’s hair, relishing in the absolutely debauched expression on his face.

What had happened after that… well.

So when Tony says that, not in the bedroom and in front of the  _team_ , no less, Steve feels like he’s on fire for a few moments.

This was probably the worst possible time to be thinking of all the things they had done in the past, following that clever little nick name.

“Steve?”

He looks up, and sees that everyone in the room is staring at him, waiting for an answer, because Maria had, in fact, been speaking to him.

“Great,” he says, and clears his throat. “Let’s go then.”

She nods, and gestures for everyone to clear out. As the team split off to attend to their own tasks, Steve avoids Natasha’s gaze, who spares only a moment to give him a look before taking off. Of  _course_  she noticed.

When they’re alone, he meets Tony’s eyes across the room, he’s smirking, and he’s looking at Steve with that impish grin that makes him equally want to throttle him and kiss him senseless.

“Shouldn’t let yourself get worked up like that,” Tony tells him as Steve crosses the room to stand in front of him. “I could smell the pheromones from all the way over here.”

“You are an ass,” Steve informs him. They’re almost chest to chest now, standing close enough together that all it would take is a step more and he could taste that smirk for himself. If they weren’t on the brink of an apocalypse, he would’ve had him against a wall by now.

“You love my ass,” Tony says, his grin widening. “Besides, I wanted to get it in one last time before we, you know, go save the world. Potentially at the cost of our lives.”

Steve shakes his head and rolls his eyes. He drops one hand to Tony’s hip and pulls him close for the briefest moment, brushes a kiss to his temple. For a moment, the bravado fades, and Tony leans into his touch, relaxing into his chest for a second. It’s all the time they have.

Still, Steve spares a few seconds more to press his lips to Tony’s hair, inhaling the familiar scent of cologne and metal that always clings to Tony’s skin. There’s no way of knowing when they’ll get a moment like this again.

“So romantic,” Steve says into his hair. “I’m going to get you back for that.”

“I’m counting on it,” Tony tells him, and kisses his jaw lightly before reluctantly backing away, his eyes twinkling. “Boss.”

 


	5. The Only Option

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - "the only option"
> 
> Rating - G

Tony twisted his hands in his lap, clearly avoiding looking at Steve. The fact that he’d moment’s before blurted out the kind of love confession that put every romantic hero in existence to shame - simply because it was so raw and honest and because it was  _Tony_  - and he was now looking away like he couldn’t bear to look Steve in the face, shattered Steve’s heart a little bit. He wanted to rush across the room and cup his face in his hands, kiss those worry lines away from where they were etched between his brows.

But, if he knew anything about Tony Stark, then he knew that doing that at this exact moment would only scare him away. So he stood where he was, hardly daring to breathe as he waited for whatever Tony was about do next.

Tony cleared his throat, dragged a shaky hand through his hair. “Steve, look. I know I’m difficult. I know I’m hard to deal with and I’m messy and sometimes I say the wrong thing - well, I say the wrong thing a lot of the time, I know - and I’m not asking for anything more than you want to give me but.”

He took a deep breath before continuing. “But. I want you. And I want to try to be the kind of person you’d want back.”

“You think I don’t want you?” Steve’s voice wavered a bit.  _How_ could Tony think that, when he was everything he’d ever wanted and more, and now here he was, telling him he loved Steve, and he thought  _Steve didn’t love him back_.

Tony winced. “I know this is a lot to shove down your throat, and I’m sorry, really. We can pretend I never said anything, I just, I had to say it out loud once. But we can forget it, we can-”

It took that long for Steve to make a decision; the risk of Tony talking himself into closing himself off from Steve was increasing rapidly, and Steve couldn’t handle it. Worries of spooking him flew out the window, and was replaced by the nagging thought rattling inside his skull:  _I can’t lose him_.

He crossed the room in three long strides. Tony looked up when Steve was right in front him, his pained expression meeting Steve’s when he dropped to his knees in front of Tony’s chair. From this vantage point, he had to look up at Tony, tilting his face up to meet his gaze.

Steve heard Tony’s breath catch in his throat when he raised both hands to press against his cheeks, thumbs carefully caressing the ridge of his cheekbones. There was the faint scratch of Tony’s facial hair under his fingers, the faint warmth of his skin. He wanted to drown in Tony’s warmth.

He leaned in then, slowly, giving Tony plenty of time to back away, to tell him to stop. He didn’t, he just stared at Steve with wide eyes and lips parted slightly, his face awash with shock.

Steve captured his lips with the softest kiss, pressed his mouth against Tony’s so gently that it was just barely more than a whisper against his lips, a question. Tony made a surprised noise and froze; Steve was just about to pull away when Tony managed to get his bearings and brought his hands up to Steve’s shoulders, then twisted them in his hair. Only when Tony began to actively reciprocate did he deepen the kiss, pulling him close and tasting him like he’d wanted to for so long.

When they drew apart Tony rested his forehead against Steve’s, emitting a soft, disbelieving laugh. Steve smiled up at him, feeling like he was radiating sunlight, like it was rushing through his veins and setting him aglow because Tony was looking at him like…

Well. Like he loved him.

“No pretending then?” Tony asked; hopeful, but still the faintest bit hesitant.

Steve kissed him again briefly and shook his head. “Not an option.”

Tony smiled then and he thought his heart stopped for a moment. When Tony smiled like that, he was always reminded of how he wanted to make him look like that every day for the rest of forever.

When Tony slid off of his chair to join him on the floor, Steve caught him in his arms and held him tight. He buried his face into the crook of Steve’s neck, pressing the sweetest kiss there as he breathed out a sigh of relief.

Steve buried his face in Tony’s hair, inhaled, and told himself that he’d spend the rest of his life proving to Tony that he had always been the only option.


	6. Wedding Vows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Steve and Tony get married
> 
> Rating - G

Steve was looking at him intently, so painfully perfect there in front of him, this man who had gone to hell and back with him, who Tony would fight for until his last breath. His hand was soft, his thumb doing that familiar thing where he’d rub it slowly over the back of his hand, tracing the ridges and grooves between his knuckles like he was mapping a canvas. He was looking at him with bright eyes and a faint smile playing around his lips; it was the kind of smile that was secret between the two of them, like it was meant for Tony and him alone, never mind they were currently standing in front of all their family and friends.

Tony couldn’t care less, because even though he’s aware they aren’t alone, the way he feels right now, they might as well be. The other people in the room were hazy pinpricks of warmth in his subconscious mind, but all that really mattered was the man looking at him like he was his very own sun and stars.

Without even thinking, Tony’s hand holding the note cards with clenched fingers dropped. The hand that was holding Steve’s squeezed, and be began talking.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” he murmured, his voice rasping over the words. “How did I find you?”

His voice shook. Steve noticed, of course he did, and squeezed his hand again, reassurance in his eyes. Tony took a deep breath and continued.

“There’s too much… too much for me to say to you in so little time,” Tony told him. “I could stand here and talk for hours and it wouldn’t even scratch the surface of what you mean to me. So I’ll just say three things.

“First; you are absolutely infuriating sometimes.” At that, there was a low chuckle from Steve and several guests, an amused hum that ran through the small gathering. 

“You all think that’s a joke,” Tony laughed, “but honestly. You drive me up the wall. We bicker like children. You’re so stubborn and bullheaded and you know just how to hit the right spots to make me insane.”

Tony stepped a fraction closer, holding Steve’s gaze with his own. “But that’s the best thing,” Tony whispered. “You know me inside and out. All those things that make me insane also keep me seeing straight. You  _know_  me, Steve, and I don’t know when or how it happened, but I do know that it doesn’t scare me. It doesn’t scare me being known by you, I love that you know every inch of me and still have managed to make me believe that you love me. You know my strengths and my weaknesses and even when you make me want to tear my hair out, it’s okay. Because being known by you is like coming home.”

Steve was definitely getting a little watery eyed now; his lips twisted into a smile that was hung heavy with contentedness, eyes shining with emotions.Tony wasn’t going to let that deter him.

“Second,” he kept on, “You make me better. You make me want to be better, not in the way of changing who I am… just. The best version of myself. You make me want to be the best I can be.”

“Third.” Tony’s voice dropped one more register, his voice softening with affection and unabashed love. “Loving you makes me happy. I want to love you for the rest of forever. Nothing would make me happier.”

“I love you,” Tony whispered, and there might have been a tear snaking down his cheek, but it didn’t matter, it  _didn’t_ , because Steve was crying and he was positive someone else - perhaps more than one person - was sniffling in the audience, so he wasn’t alone. All that mattered was that he loved this man, and damn it, he needed to  _know_. “If you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of forever showing you.”

He stopped then, out of things to say because even if he kept talking he could never say all of the things he wanted to say to Steve, never convey in words all of the things Steve made him feel. He could never, because it was too much, so much it made him feel weak and invincible all at the same time, and so incandescently happy that he could barely contain himself.

Then again, he literally had the rest of their own little forever to tell Steve how much he meant to him.

It was the wrong time, the officiant tried to object with a feeble “wait,” but Steve was stepping forward, reaching up with his free hand to cradle Tony’s cheek in his palm. His thumb brushed lightly against Tony cheekbone, swiping away a tear and smearing the wetness across his skin.

“I love you,” Steve whispered, his voice cracking. “God, I love you so much.”

Then he was leaning forward and capturing Tony’s lips in his own; the touch of his mouth was faint but heavy with a heady promise, an answer to Tony’s own raw and honest proclamations.

Whatever he’d done to find this man, this man he loved more than he ever thought was possible, he was eternally grateful because Steve was telling him with just the simplest kiss that, he too, would spend forever loving Tony back.

And Tony knew this, because he knew Steve the same way Steve knew him.

When they broke apart, they were both smiling the same smile; happy and in love, but Tony was certain that it tasted better on Steve’s lips.


	7. Anniversary Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Tony gets a special - and very permanent - gift for Steve
> 
> Rating - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on [this](http://pensversusswords.tumblr.com/post/123516045046/ok-but-like-imagine-that-its-steve-and-tonys-3rd) conversation with [brandnewfashion](http://brandnewfashion.tumblr.com).

“Tony?” 

Steve’s voice was quiet and soft in the silence of the room, snapping Tony out of his frantic thoughts. He looked up from where he’d been carefully peeling off his socks one by one, to see Steve staring at him from where he was perched on the bed. He’d paused in undressing himself, probably to observe Tony taking extra care to remove his socks - his jacket had taken  _forever_  - and was still wearing the dress pants and shirt he’d worn to dinner. He was looking at him with mild concern mingled with curiosity, those faint worry lines Tony knew so well etched into his brow.

For a moment Tony allowed himself to appreciate the way that shirt hugged his shoulders like it was made for his body - God, Steve could wear a trash bag and look stunning, but that shirt would be the death of him - but then he was swiftly back to full on internally freaking out.

“Babe?” Steve said, those worry lines deepening when Tony didn’t answer. “Is everything okay?”

“Yup,” Tony said, wincing when it came out a little too loud. He placed his socks on the dresser next to his carefully folded jacket. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I’ve always had a problem trying to get you to keep your clothes on, not get out of them,” Steve remarked, his voice carefully teasing but still concerned. “You’ve been undressing for about twenty minutes or so. And I’ve never seen you fold clothes once since I’ve known you.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Tony sighed. “And really, the naked incident again?”

Steve just looked at him, his gaze incredulous. They’d had this discussion before; they were never going to agree on how the Tony-walked-into-the-living-room-naked-while-Steve-was-entertaining-a-colleague incident when down. Plus, now wasn’t exactly the right time to get into that.

“Okay, okay. Fine. I just.” Tony paused, drew in a deep breath, and force himself to maintain eye contact with Steve. He could do this. Steve loved him, he knew that. 

“I have something to show you,” he said, finally.

“Oh?” Steve asked, his voice encouraging. 

“Yes.” Tony attempted to quell the nervousness rising thick and heady in his throat, and lifted his hands to the buttons on his shirt, forcing his fingers to cooperate and unbutton them as he stepped forward. 

“So you know how I love you,” Tony began, coming to stop in front of Steve, standing in the V of his thighs. 

Steve laughed a little and placed his hands on Tony’s hips, warm and firm, tugging him a little closer. He looked up at Tony with eyes wide and bright, pools of blue that Tony could get lost in if he allowed himself to.

“Yes, I do know that,” Steve murmured, peering up at Tony through long lashes. “And I love you.”

Tony let out a sound that ended up caught between a laugh and a choked out breath. “Yeah, well. I really hope so.”

With that, he reached the final button and began opening his shirt, letting it flutter against his skin as he pulled it over his shoulders and tossed it on the floor.

“Because I’m kinda going to love you for forever,” he whispered.

He saw the exact moment that Steve saw it; his eyes drifted down from his face, to his neck, to the crest of his collarbone, to the black script that was etched into Tony’s skin over his clavicle. Tony felt like it was burning under Steve’s gaze; it still hurt, yes, but that wasn’t it. It was Steve’s face when he realized what it was, the way his eyes widened and his lips parted in surprise, the soft exhale of realization. It was the way his face went slack with shock and in all of a moment, his eyes went glassy and bright.

“Is that…”

“Yeah,” Tony said, so softly. He reached both hands - he chose to ignore the fact that they were shaking slightly - and placed them on Steve’s shoulders, feeling the familiar warmth and firmness of muscle just beneath the fabric. He felt a little bit like he was clinging to him for dear life.

“Tony…” Steve breathed. He lifted one hand slowly, glanced at Tony’s face briefly, and when Tony gave him a nod of permission, he reached up to brush his fingertips gently across the word Tony had decided to imprint on himself for forever. 

Tony felt a shiver run through him as Steve touched his  _own name_ , the tiny piece of him that Tony had captured and kept for himself. It was still tender, still hurt faintly, but he wanted Steve to keep touching it for forever. It burned in the most perfect way, like fire under his skin.

Steve swallowed thickly, looked up at Tony’s face and shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Do you like it?” Tony tried to keep his voice light, but was certain that he miserably failed, that Steve could hear the tremor of uncertainty on his breath.

Steve stared at him for a long moment, something reverent and disbelieving in his eyes, then leaned forward. He pulled Tony towards him, tugging him down until his lips hovered just over the tattoo. 

There was the feeling of Steve’s light breath ghosting across his skin, and then the familiar softness of lips kissing him gently, as his arms came up to encircle his waist and hug him tightly. Tony closed his eyes and let his hands drift to the back of Steve’s head, interlocking around his skull, fingers splayed in the softness of his hair as he held him close against him. 

Steve’s lips stayed pressed against his skin, against his  _name_ , for what felt like an eternity but was still not long enough, before he leaned back just enough to look at Tony.

“I love it,” he whispered, his voice breaking over the words. 

Just like that, the last of Tony’s baseless nervousness faded, because Steve was looking at him like he’d found the secret to the meaning of the universe and yet Tony was still the only thing that mattered to him. 

It wasn’t long before Tony was in his arms, tangled with Steve’s limbs and his tongue tasting Steve’s mouth, and Tony found himself wondering if Steve knew that he’d found the meaning of his own universe, and it was forever written on his skin.


	8. Petrichor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Petrichor: the scent of dry rain on the ground
> 
> Rating - T

Tony burrowed in closer to Steve, loving the weight of his arm slung across his shoulder, the way it felt to have his legs tangled with his. Both of them were naked and stretched out across the bed, skin on skin, as close as they could possibly be.  

Sometimes Tony felt like he could drown in Steve and it still might not be close enough.

Even so, this here was what he loved best, laying next to Steve as they were pressed against each other, absorbing each other. The floor length windows of their bedroom were flung wide open and Tony could see the receeding cloud cover, the droplets of rain still glistening on the foliage that surrounded the house. 

Tony still couldn’t believe he’d actually let Steve drag him off to a cottage in the middle of nowhere - there were bugs, and everything smelled so  _green_ \- for a weekend, but if they spent this much time naked together, he figured he could deal with it. 

“You’re warm,” Steve murmured, and Tony the words rumbling deep in his chest against his cheek. 

“Too warm?” Tony asked, shifting a bit so he was almost laying on top of Steve, sprawled out across his broad chest.

Steve smiled at him, leaned forward and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Absolutely not, you’re perfect.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Have I ever mentioned that you’re a complete cheeseball?”

“Hmm.” Steve furrowed his brow, pretending to think. “It might have come up once or twice over the years.”

Tony grunted and flicked his nose. “So corny. You’re an embarrassment, Rogers.”

“Liar,” Steve yawned, tightening his arm around Tony. He hoped that it wasn’t obvious how much he loved when Steve did that, clutched him closer to him like he was an anchor, and he was in need of a reminder that he was still there. It made Tony feel safe. “Plust, I’m allowed to be corny on our anniversary.”

“Excuses,” Tony grumbled. “You’re just this corny all year around, you can’t use this as an excuse to be worse.”

“Don’t make me start calling you cupcake again.”

Tony glared. “Steve I will run into the woods and you will never see me again.”

Steve grinned wickedly. “I seriously doubt that. You love my nick names.”

“I love  _you_.” Tony emphasized this statement by jabbing him in the chest with one finger. “I tolerate the nicknames.”

“Okay, pumpkin.” 

Tony dropped his head face first into Steve’s chest; partly in protest of the pet name, and partly because he felt his cheeks heating a bit. How did Steve do that?

“I changed my mind, I hate you,” Tony grumbled.

“Liar,” Steve told him again and dropped a kiss to his hair. Tony grunted into his chest.

“I can’t believe I came out here with you,” Tony groused, turning his head so his cheek was against Steve’s chest again, his heartbeat stuttering softly under his ear. “I was thinking a beach vacation, not being stranded in the wilderness where everything smells like dirt and bug spray.”

“Such a drama queen,” Steve accused, but Tony didn’t need to be a genius to hear the fondness in his voice. “And it smells nice right now.”

“Dirt doesn’t smell nice, Steve.”

“It’s not dirt,” Steve insisted. He inhaled deeply, his chest rising under Tony’s head. “Petrichor.”

“Mmph?” 

“Petrichor, it’s-”

“I know what it is,” Tony interrupted, words tumbling out on the tail end of a yawn.

Steve chuckled. God, Tony loved that sound. “It’s a nice smell. It smells new.”

“New, huh?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Fresh. Like new beginnings. The promise that the sun is coming back.”

“Quit waxing poetic in my bed, Steve.”

Steve laughed again, soft and amused. “As you wish.” 

They were silent for a while after that, Tony losing himself in Steve’s breaths, in the warmth of his skin. Somehow Steve’s hand ended up in his hair, stroking it gently, fingers caressing his scalp and sending shivers up his spine.

Tony loved laying here like this; he was safe, he was loved, and Steve was vibrant and happy next to him.

He found himself wondering if Steve knew that he was his new beginning. 


	9. Brontide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brontide: the low rumbling of distant thunder
> 
> Rating - G

“So, we have a problem.”

Steve looked up from the book he was reading, immediately dog-earing the page he was reading and setting it aside. He frowned, taking in the sight in front of him; Tony standing there in just his boxers and a t-shirt, with their puppy cradled against his chest. Tony could feel its wet nose on his neck and he was trembling so much that Tony had to hold him tightly in a gentle grip to keep him still. 

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked, concerned, and moved to get out from under the covers and come to them, but Tony shook his head and waved for him to stay put. He crossed the room slowly, trying his hardest not to jostle the tiny creature in his arms.

“It seems,” Tony said as he reached the side of the bed, carefully passing over the tiny bundle of golden fur over to Steve before crawling in beside him, “that our munchkin is afraid of thunderstorms.”

“Ahhh, poor Frodo,” Steve said, and cupped the small creature in his hands, settling him in his lap. Tony slid in close to Steve, who automatically lifted his arm to wrap around Tony’s shoulder’s and dropped a kiss onto his forehead. “Did you tell him you’re also afraid of thunderstorms?”

“I’m not -” Tony’s mouth shut with a snap just as the sound of thunder rolling in the distance rumbled in the air, and without even meaning to, he tucked himself further under Steve’s arm as faint nervousness curled in his gut. 

At least he wasn’t alone; at the sound, Frodo let out a pitiful squeak and burrowed into the minimal space between the two of them. 

Steve chuckled and squeezed him, pulling him tight against his side as he lowered them both down to lay against the pillows. Tony made a disgruntled noise and slung his arm over Steve’s chest, burying his nose in the crook of his neck. Frodo took his place on Steve’s stomach, and Tony rested a reassuring hand on his back, gently stroking the fur. 

“It’s okay to be scared of the thunder, Tony,” Steve murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Tony’s head. “Frodo isn’t afraid to admit it.”

“Frodo is a puppy,” Tony groused, “and technically he didn’t admit anything, because he can’t speak. Maybe he’s excited. We’ll never know.”

“Right, of course. What, do you whimper when you’re excited?”

Tony lifted his head to glare at a smirking Steve. 

“Hilarious,” he said dryly, rolling his eyes. 

Steve chuckled and widened his eyes in exaggerated innocence. “What? I was asking a question, Tony.”

“You’re an asshole,” Tony told him, trying to sound at least a little bit disapproving, but even to his own ears it was impossible to miss the fondness in his voice.

Steve grin grew and he shrugged, unapologetic and amused. “I thought you said just this morning I was cute.”  

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Steve’s chin. “A cute asshole, but still an asshole,” he admitted. “Though I might have been talking to the dog.”

Steve bumped his forehead against Tony’s, tilted his head and kissed his nose. Tony scrunched his nose up in protest and Steve laughed.

“Come on now,” Steve murmured, pulling him in close and urging Tony to put his head back on his shoulder. “I’ll protect the two loves of my life from the thunderstorm, I promise.” 

“Dork,” Tony mumbled into Steve’s shirt. 

“Yup,” Steve agreed, curling his hand protectively over the small of his back. “You bet. Now shh, our baby is sleeping.”

Under Tony’s hand, Frodo’s shaking had died down, but Tony kept running his hands over his fur, soothing him. Maybe even in his sleep he needed reassurance.

The three of them lay there together in silence, and Tony drifted off to sleep warm and safe in the comfort of Steve’s arms.


	10. Apodyopis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apodyopis: The act of mentally undressing someone 
> 
> Rating - T+

Tony was talking, his hands waving as he blustered around their bedroom, drawers slamming shut, cuff links clattering against polished wood when he tossed them on the dresser. Steve sat with his back cushioned against a mountain of pillows, fingers laced behind his head as he watched the whirlwind that was his boyfriend flit around the room. 

He was talking about a meeting he’d been forced to attend that day, not necessarily a majorly important one, but important enough that Pepper had threatened to drag him there by his ear if he hadn’t left early enough to show up forty five minutes before it started. 

Of course he’d gotten there five minutes before the meeting began, but as Tony proclaimed, it was “pretty close”.

Tony always got like this after board meetings; Steve knew it was partly irritation at having to deal with the assclowns - Tony’s preferred title for most of the board members - partly it was for show. He didn’t mind it as much as he said, but it was enough that some days he’d come home tense and Steve would lay him out across their bed and work the kinks out of his back with his hands until Tony was a pliant puddle before him. 

Also, Steve had mastered the art of listening to Tony Rambling with rapt attention, while at the same time tracing the curve of his hips with his eyes, imagining peeling his shirt off and running his hands over the smooth flesh he knew was beneath. 

“… and then I spent the last twenty minutes of the meeting arguing with them, but then I just decided, fuck it, I have a hot piece waiting at home anyways, what am I doing sticking around here.”

Tony tossed his jacked over a chair and turned to Steve, who could feel himself grinning at him, faintly suggestive. 

“This hot piece is waiting for you to get in bed with him,” Steve told him, patting the bed beside him. 

Tony’s brows raised slightly, smirked at him as his deft fingers started unbuttoning his shirt. “Were you even listening? Or were you imaging me naked again?”

“I would never,” Steve drawled. “And yes, I was listening. I was just admiring you at the same time. Thinking I could help you forget that bad meeting.” 

Tony snorted and pulled off the crisp white shirt. It joined the jacked it over the chair and he reached for his belt. “Staring at my ass, more like.”

“Well,” Steve said slowly, shrugging with an air of faux innocence, “it is a nice ass.”

Tony laughed at that. Pants and boxers were shucked off at the same time, thrown somewhere on the floor.

“There,” Tony murmured, approaching the bed slowly and climbing on. “Now you don’t have to imagine what’s underneath my clothes.”

“Mmm,” Steve hummed appreciatively, reaching out for Tony as he clambered on top of him, hands bracing against the small of his back as Tony settled with his knees on either side of Steve’s lap. “Much better than my imagination.”

Tony raised his arms and rested them on Steve’s shoulders, leaning in slightly. “You sure you wouldn’t rather stare some more?” he asked, voice teasing, eyes intent on Steve’s.

He let out a small noise of contentment when Steve leaned forward and kissed him, his lips soft and willing beneath his own. 

“No,” Steve whispered when he drew back for breath, “I’d much rather you in my arms, actually.”

With that, Steve went on to show him just how he’d imagined making him forget about his day.


	11. Natasha/Steph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha Stark and Steph Rogers have synced up and are comforting each other through the pain.
> 
> Rating - G

“I think I’m dying.”

Steph rolled her eyes and continued petting Natasha’s hair, running her fingers gently through the loose strands in the way that always made her purr softly under her breath. She’d deny it to the death, but there it was. A soft, breathy, contented humming. Steph knew that it was why she always lay like this, sprawled across the couch, her torso settled in the V of Steph’s legs, her head pressed against her stomach.

“You say that every month,” Steph pointed out. “And every month you survive.”

Natasha buried her face into Steph’s shirt and groaned. “This time I mean it. Say your goodbyes now because I’m not going to survive this one.”

Steph laughed quietly under her breath, shaking her head. “You’re such a drama queen,” she told her fondly. Natasha grunted by way of answering.

“And oh so eloquent,” Steph said, amused now. She brushed her fingers across Natasha’s temple, feeling the warm pulse beating just underneath. That was one thing the serum granted her that she loved; how sensitive and enhanced her senses were, how easily she could feel the reassuring rush of life coursing through Natasha’s body. How she could press her hand against her heart and feel the steady beating of her heart.

“Chocolate?” Natasha asked, tilting her face up and waving a chocolate bar at Steph. 

Steph leaned down and gratefully took a bite while Natasha held it for her. 

“I’d offer you ice cream,” Steph said as she pulled away, nodding at the bowl sitting next to them on the coffee table, “but I’m pretty sure it melted while I was petting your hair.”

Natasha scrunched up her face in distaste. “Yum. Ice cream soup.”

Steph laughed. She nodded at the chocolate bar. “More?”

Natasha obliged, this time breaking off a piece and popping it into her mouth. 

“Thanks sweetheart,” Steph mumbled around the mouthful of sweetness. 

Natasha smiled. Dropping her head back down to Steph’s stomach, she hitched up her shirt a tiny bit and dropped a kiss to the sliver of bare skin. She let her lips linger there, as if she could kiss away the cramps twisting painfully just below her gut. 

“Anytime,” Natasha murmured. Steph returned to stroking her hair, and it wasn’t long after that when they both drifted off to sleep, tangled together with Steph’s hand splayed protectively across Natasha’s skull, letting themselves absorb each other’s warmth. 


	12. Tony Stark Needs A Nap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony fall asleep in a hammock together
> 
> Rating - G

There were few things Steve hated more than the sight of Tony dead on his feet, exhaustion weighing down on his lean frame, making him seem smaller than he really was. When Steve entered the shop and called his name, Tony looked up at him with his eyes dazed and his lips thin, bags heavy under his eyes, which caused Steve’s heart to squeeze painfully in his chest. He looked so tired that he gave the impression of wilting forward as if something heavier than he was strong sat like a stone in the middle of his back.

“Tony,” Steve said for the second time, reaching out with gentle fingers to take a wrench from Tony’s grease stained hand. “Come on. You have to rest sometime.”

Tony shook his head. “No,” he rasped, voice gravelly from lack of sleep. “I’m working, Steve. Busy.”

Stubborn as always, Tony reached for the wrench. Steve sidestepped him and placed it carefully on a shelf, out of range. When he turned back to Tony he ignored the frown that had etched itself into his brow, and slid his palms over Tony’s hips, pulling him close.

As expected, Tony resisted for a brief moment, so Steve waited patiently for Tony to come the rest of the way himself. It was only a moment later that with a sigh, Tony stepped forward and melted into the circle of Steve’s arms. Instinctively, Steve’s arms came up to hold him tightly, looped around the small of his back while Tony sagged against him.

“I have to keep working,” Tony murmured, but as he said it he was pressing his face into the crook of Steve’s neck. Steve squeezed his waist and kissed the top of his head.

“Even you can’t run on empty, Tony,” Steve scolded. “Sam will understand. In fact, if he knew you were running yourself ragged over him, he’d be out of that hospital bed in an instant and drag you out of the shop by your ear.”

Tony snorted. “No, he wouldn’t.”

“Well, I guess we’ll never know,” Steve said, “because you’re gonna sleep now.”

“But the wings-”

“Will be here when you get back.” Steve’s voice was firm, gentle. Tony groaned in protest against his neck, but didn’t otherwise resist as Steve dropped his arms from Tony’s waist and took his hand in his own.

“Come on,” he murmured, and it only took a moment more of Tony frowning for him to follow behind Steve, who led him from the room.

An hour later found the two of them in the hammock Steve had insisted that they put on their personal balcony. After having showered together and eaten the quick meal Steve had prepared - take out that they’d eaten sprawled out across the couch, Steve just being thankful to see Tony getting something into his system - Steve led Tony up to their bedroom and out onto the balcony. Steve flopped down first and pulled Tony in after him, who settled against him willingly, one arm slung across Steve’s midsection, fingers buried in the fabric of his shirt.

“There,” Steve murmured once Tony was settled. He ran his fingers gently through his hair, noticing the familiar way Tony practically purred at the touch, pushing subconsciously against his palm. “Isn’t that better?”

“I should be working, Steve,” Tony responded. The words rumbled low in his throat, but lacking heat. “Sam’s gonna need his wings soon, and I’m not letting him falling out of the fucking sky again because of SHIELD’s shitty designs.”

“First of all,” Steve began, his voice level and reasonable. “Sam’s still in the hospital. He’s not flying anywhere for a bit, even when he’s released in a couple days. Second, no one works best on absolutely no hours of sleep. You know that, despite how often you pretend it isn’t true.”

“’m fine,” Tony mumbled. Steve smiled fondly; his words were slurring together, a sure sign that he was moments away from drifting off into sleep. With that in mind, he stayed quiet and continued petting his hair. He listened for the smooth transition of Tony’s breath into soft exhalations that told him the man in his arms had drifted off. It wasn’t long before Tony was pliant and soft in his slumber and was completely relaxed against Steve’s side as he  held him close.

Steve smiled down at him, face peaceful in rest, and resisted the urge to pepper his face with kisses. Even asleep Tony looked exhausted, and the last thing he wanted to do was wake him.

Instead, he braced the arm he had wound around Tony’s back a little bit tighter, dropped one socked foot to the ground and began to gently rock the hammock back and forth. Tony made a tiny noise in his sleep, a tiny snuffling noise that had Steve flushed with warmth.

The air was gentle and cool on their skin, the sun dipping just below the horizon as Steve rocked Tony to sleep, thinking not for the first time that Tony asleep and safe in his arms was the most comforting feeling in the world. 


	13. Breaking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony break up... yes, for real
> 
> Rating - G

Tony was sitting on the couch across the room from him with his hands folded in his lap, head bowed and shoulders curved forward, hunched down like something heavy was pressing down on the middle of his back. 

Steve stood with his back to the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His features were drawn tight and emotionless - at least, he hoped - while a fire raged deep in his chest. 

He could hardly bear to look at Tony; his features were twisted and pained in a way that made Steve’s heart ache.

“I-” Tony began and abruptly stopped. He drew a shaky hand through his hair, let out a long breath that even from a distance Steve could tell hitched painfully in his throat. 

He cleared his throat and began again. “I doubt you want to hear me say I’m sorry, do you?” he said, his voice quiet and raw. Steve thought that maybe his hands were shaking. 

If Steve hadn’t had his own hands curled into fists that he pressed against his ribcage, he was positive they would be visibly shaking, too.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Steve responded, perhaps more sharply than he’d intended. If he didn’t add a hard edge to his voice, he knew his voice would tremble with unshed tears, and he didn’t want Tony to hear that. He was in enough agony as it was, and he didn’t need to hear Tony say it for Steve to know that he was already blaming himself.

A tiny noise tore from Tony’s throat; tear soaked and brutal. A broken sob followed right after, and Tony dropped his face into his hands.

Steve wanted to cross the room and wrap him in his arms, stroke his hair, hold him close against his chest, assure him that it was fine, he’d be okay,  _they’d_  be okay. He wanted Tony’s familiar warmth in his arms, to bury his nose against his neck, breathe him in…

But he knew that was the last thing in the world Tony wanted him to do, so he stayed put and waited for Tony to speak again. 

“I know this is my fault,” Tony finally said brokenly, his voice muffled where he still had his hands pressed against his face. 

“No,” Steve said firmly. “This is no one’s fault Tony. It’s out of your control.”

“It’s my fault,” Tony repeated, a little louder and with more force.

Steve sighed. “Tony-”

“Please,” Tony croaked. He dropped his hands back into his lap and looked straight at Steve, his eyes red rimmed and glassy, lines etched deep into his brow. He frowned, bit his lip, shook his head. “Please, just. Let me feel this. I deserve to feel guilty.”

“You don’t choose who you fall in or out of love with,” Steve whispered, and he almost choked on the words. They tasted like bile on his tongue, twisted uncomfortably between his lips as he spoke them. 

Tony reeled back a bit at that, and for a moment he looked like he was going to throw up. He pitched to his feet and strode over to the window, stopping to look out at the city stretched out below. His shoulders were shaking, his hands jammed deep in his pockets, his whole body wilting.

“Even so,” he murmured, ever so stubborn. 

Steve sighed again. “It’s not your fault, and I’ll never blame you Tony. I still - I still want to be your friend. You’re my team mate. I won’t hold this against you, feelings change and I understand that. I won’t lie and say this is easy because -” Steve drew in a shaky breath, “well, you know it isn’t. But I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

Tony didn’t say anything, and that was the worst of it, because he knew he’d have to get used to that. Steve was so used to Tony’s voice filling up whatever space he was in, his constant movement replacing his voice even when he wasn’t speaking. Now, there was only silence, dark and empty like the pit that had grown in Steve’s chest ever since the moment Tony told him he didn’t love him the same anymore.

Just like that, Steve felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room. He had to leave, he had to -

“I have to go,” he said roughly, making his way to the door. “I need to be alone for a bit. A lot to process.” 

He paused, but didn’t look back. 

“We’ll be okay, Tony,” he said, and he only almost half believed it.

The last thing he heard before shutting the door behind him was Tony’s broken whisper; “We won’t.”


	14. Steph/Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steph pegs Tony with her strapon
> 
> Rating - M

Steph gripped Tony’s waist harder and thrust deep into him, loving the way his lips parted and his head tilted back as he let out a punched out gasp. His whole body was taut with pleasure under her fingertip and every time she moved, a tremble ran through him, quivering in her grasp.

“Feel good?” she asked. She was hovering over him with her elbows braced on either side of his head, his legs spread wide, bracketing her hips as she rocked into him at a steady pace, filling him up. Watching him come apart under her was enough to drive her mad.

“You know it does,” Tony murmured, probably trying to sound indignant, but instead it just came out needy as it trailed off into a whine. 

Steph smirked. “Smart ass,” she told him, and moved her hips just so, knowing it would make Tony incapable of anything but drowning in pleasure. 

Just as she wished, he let out a drawn out moan and gripped her arms, nails biting into her biceps. 

“Okay,” he gasped, arching his back and shamelessly moving with her. “Yes it feels good, fuck. It always feels good, you jerk. Please.”

“You’re awful mouthy for someone who’s getting fucked senseless at the moment,” Steph mused. Tony groaned loudly.

“You’re evil.”

“Not true,” Steph smiled, dipped down and kissed Tony. “You love me.”

Tony let out a little laugh between moans as Steph picked up the pace, pounding into him, leaving him wide eyed and breathless.

“Damn right, I do.”


	15. Tony Meets The Gang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve introduces his friends to his boyfriend (hipster!pre serum Steve AU)
> 
> Rating - G

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has fan art [right here](http://chrisdoritoevans.tumblr.com/post/126940597209/sorry-did-i-hear-preserum-hipster-steve-with)!

“He’s late.”

Steve raised one brow, in the middle of taking a sip of his coffee when Natasha said it. She was looking at him with faint annoyance, her lips slightly pursed as she leaned forward with her elbows on the table, one hand idly pushing the ring she wore on one finger around and around. 

He set his coffee down and responded with a slight shrug. “Yeah, I’m not exactly surprised. He does that sometimes.”

“Charming,” she said dryly, bending over to take the straw jutting out of her drink between two red lips. 

Beside her, Sam nudged her. “It’s only been a few minutes, Nat. He’ll be here soon.”

“He better be,” Bucky grumbled from beside Steve. When Steve turned to glance over at him, he saw Bucky leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, his brows furrowed and his expression surly. Steve knew that look. It was the ‘I’m gonna scared the crap out of the new boyfriend’ look that Steve knew too well.

“C'mon guys,” Steve sighed. “Behave, alright? You all look like you’re about to give him the shovel talk and you promised you wouldn’t.”

“But-” Bucky started, but Steve cut him off with a raised hand and a shake of his head. 

“Nope, you promised,” Steve repeated. “I like him and you aren’t allowed to scare him away.”

At this he turned an admonishing look on the rest of the table, eyes narrowed and finger jabbing at each of them accusingly. They all looked slightly abashed but mostly just indignant. Steve knew there was absolutely no way to actually keep them from trying to intimidate Tony at least a little bit, but he hoped that saying it out loud multiple times before they met him might reduce the damage a bit.

To be fair, Tony would give them a run for their money anyways. He was certain that his friends would like him in the end, but the first few moments would be more than a bit shaky. As always, though, he was positive that Tony would charm his way into their hearts as always. It’d worked for Steve, anyways.

“We’ll be good, Steve,” Sam assured him, reaching over and gripping his shoulder reassuringly. He smiled at Steve, sunny as always, and Steve didn’t really have the heart to tell him that it wasn’t him he was worried about. It was the other two. 

Just as he opened his mouth to respond, a familiar buzzing sound snapped him out of his thoughts. A grin already forming at the corners of his lips, he turned towards the parking lot of the outdoor cafe just as tires screeched to a halt and a familiar vehicle jolted to a stop. Of  _course_  Tony would bring the Maserati today. 

He heard Natasha mutter a faint “ugh” under her breath, and he spared a moment to be amused at her predictable reaction to his boyfriends equally predictable dramatic entrance, but then Tony was getting out of the car, wearing that damn leather jacket he knew Steve was weak for, and instantly Steve’s focus was all on him. By the time Tony’s eyes met his and a smile lit up his face under his goatee, Steve’s heart was fluttering in his chest and he was probably grinning like an idiot, but he didn’t care; it might’ve been only a few days since he’d seen him last but Steve never got tired of how good it felt when Tony looked at him like he was the only important thing in the world.

When Tony started making his way towards Steve, eyes locked on his, he heard Bucky hiss, “wait, is that…”

Steve just nodded, not even bothering to look at his best friend, ignoring whatever comment followed the realization that went around the table. He had eyes only for Tony and the rest didn’t matter. 

Tony reached his side a moment later and, as Steve’s heart thudded against his ribcage, he braced one hand on one arm of Steve’s chair, leaning down until they were nose to nose. 

“You’re late,” Steve murmured, but his accusation was without heat. Tony was looking at him so intently with those deep, hazel flecked brown eyes and he found that he didn’t mind a little lateness. He was just glad Tony was here.  

“Sorry,” Tony said, softly. “Got caught up." 

"Mmm,” Steve hummed in a faint reprimand. 

“I’ll make it up to you later,” Tony promised, his grin wicked as he reached out one hand to cup the back of his neck, thumb caressing the line of Steve’s throat softly. 

Steve shook his head. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, and then he was arching up just slightly to taste that grin, loving the way Tony’s lips immediately went pliant against his own, a happy little noise thrumming against his lips as they kissed. It was brief and gentle and barely quenched his thirst for this gorgeous man he could still hardly believe was actually his, but considering they had a mission at the moment, it would have to do. 

When they drew away, Tony rested his forehead against Steve’s, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “Hey, baby,” he said, quietly. 

“Hey,” Steve said back, hand reaching out for Tony’s and winding their fingers together and giving his hand a little squeeze. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat brought Steve’s mind back to the present. Grimacing, he tore his gaze from Tony’s and turned to face three astonished, wide eyed stares. 

“So,” Steve began, pointing with his free hand at Tony. “This is my boyfriend, Tony.”

 


	16. Wall Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve likes to pick Tony up to kiss him
> 
> Rating - T+
> 
> Based on [this](http://marvelobsessions.tumblr.com/post/127725899638/also-its-nice-to-picture-steve-pressing-tony) post.

Tony would never get tired of the feeling of Steve’s arms tight around him, his lips hot and soft on his own.

Steve had just grabbed him around his waist and pulled him into the nearest room, slammed the door shut behind them and covered Tony’s mouth with his own, backing him up against the wall and eclipsing his entire body with his bulk. As always, Tony was eager and responded enthusiastically, throwing his arms around Steve’s neck and leaning his weight against him.

This drew a contented hum from Steve’s mouth and Tony knew he was smiling, because Tony even with his eyes closed, he knew exactly what Steve’s smile felt like against his lips.

“Missed you,” Steve murmured, moving away from Tony’s mouth to leave a line of kisses up the column of his throat, pausing at the crest of his collarbone to press his lips reverently against Tony’s skin. Tony’s heart fluttered in his chest and he tangled his fingers his hair, urging Steve’s lips back to his own. 

“Missed you too,” Tony breathed out in the scant space between their lips and Steve hummed again, pressing in closer. 

The noise that caught in Steve’s throat turned into a gasp when Tony pitched himself against him and lifted himself up by the arms he had looped around Steve’s shoulders. His legs rested just right on the curves of Steve’s waist as Tony squeezed gently with his thighs to keep himself up.

Steve let out a small, gusty laugh against Tony’s mouth and moved to grip his thighs tightly in gentle, strong hands, holding Tony close and upright. He fit so perfectly in the V of Tony’s legs; everything about his body against Tony was perfect, the way he left soft kisses all over his skin, the way he held Tony in his arms like he was to be desired and treasured all at the same time. 

Tony’s heart was thundering in his chest and all he could think was  _more, I want more._

“ _Really_ missed you,” Steve murmured, and Tony just kissed him harder by way of responding, drinking him in and reacquainting himself with the feeling of Steve’s lips against his own.

No, Tony was certain that he would never get tired of this.

 


	17. Three Sentence Fics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three sentence fics... kinda
> 
> Rating - G - M

**"I know it looks big but I promise I can fit my fist in my mouth"**

“It’s not a matter of whether or not you can do it, Tony,” Steve gasped around another laugh that bubbled up, warm and hearty in his chest. “It’s a matter of ‘if you get your fist stuck in your mouth I’m taking a picture and putting it on twitter before I help you.”

“’s no gon’ ge’ stuck,” Tony disagreed, his voice muffled around his his hand, which he currently had jammed between his lips. “’ee?”.

Steve snorted with laughter just as Tony wedged his fist in his mouth a little further. 

“Dun’ laugh,” Tony slurred, glaring at him harder. Steve just laughed harder, burying his face in his hands an peeking at Tony through his fingers. 

Tony’s fist was about halfway in now, and just about then is when he paused, wiggled his fist around a bit, and then widened his eyes.

“’m thuck,” he garbled, visibly tugging on his hand, trying to get it out of his mouth. 

Steve laughed so hard he nearly fell off the bed. 

 

**"Temporary telepathy"**

_There’s a supply closet two doors down. Follow me out._

The thought dropped into Steve’s brain with no preamble, and he startled out of his chair as the intrusive thought dropped into his mind. He still wasn’t used to this ‘temporary’ telepathy thing he and Tony had going on. 

Steve glanced over at Tony just as he stood up, very obviously not looking at him as he discretely slipped out of his chair and made his way towards the door. 

A few minutes later, a blush crept over Steve’s cheekbones just as another thought that was most certainly not his own crept into his mind, sending shivers up his spine. 

_If you hurry up I’ll let you try that thing we talked about the other night._

Steve nearly tripped over his feet as he politely excused himself and scurried from the room. 

 

**"Steve discovers Tony's praise kink"**

Steve ran his fingers slowly up the expanse of Tony’s stomach until he reached his chest, his hand splayed over his heart, feeling the staccato beat against his skin. Tony’s back was pressed against Steve’s chest, both of them laying on their sides, their bodies fitting together perfectly as they basked in the post-coital glow. 

Pressing a kiss behind Tony’s ear, and another onto his neck, the curve of his shoulder, Steve lost himself for a moment in the sound of Tony’s breathing and the warm, sated feeling that came after sex. He felt loose and happy, almost dopey, which is why he was hardly thinking when he brought his lips close to Tony’s ear and whispered; “God, you’re amazing Tony.”

Tony’s reaction was immediate and surprising; he seemed to melt back into Steve’s arms with a heavy sigh that sounded an awful lot like a purr of satisfaction.

“Yeah?” he murmured, dipping his head back against Steve’s shoulder. 

Steve was more than a little bit surprised at the reaction, but if him saying things like that made Tony go all relaxed and happy like that, he was more than happy to continue. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, shifting so his weight was on his elbow and he could hover over Tony. He leaned down and kissed Tony’s nose, which Tony scrunched up in response. “You were perfect, sweetheart.”

The tentative, almost shy smile that Steve got for that comment made something warm and pleasant bloom in his chest, something so fond and endeared that Steve could hardly handle it. 

Tony arched up then and caught Steve’s lips in a kiss, that smile still lingering between them, and Steve thought that nothing had ever tasted so sweet. 

 

 


	18. Kiss Cam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony are caught on the kiss cam at a basketball game
> 
> Rating - G

_Steve_.”

At the sound of Natasha’s voice hissing in his ear and the sharp jab she delivered to his ribcage, Steve looked up sharply from where he’d been distractedly watching the people milling around as they waited for the basketball game to restart.

“What?” he demanded, turning to her, his hand instinctively rising to his side to rub the spot she’d assaulted. She wasn’t looking at him, though. Her gaze was trained off into the distance in front of her, eyes trained upwards in the direction of the center of the arena.

“Look,” she said urgently, just as Steve was turning to do just that.

He then was then met with the image of himself, larger than life, on the huge screen that hung in the center of the stadium. Steve felt his stomach drop heavily as he saw the obnoxious heart logo in the corner of the screen with the words ”kiss cam” scrawled across the middle.

Of all the possible things that could go wrong during a team outing, this was probably the absolute last thing he would’ve expected.  

The camera was centered very obviously on him and, subsequently, the two people he was squished between on the hard, vaguely sticky arena chairs. On one side there was Natasha, who had taken to gripping his arm tightly in one hand, nails nearly biting painfully into his skin.

As soon as the situation had fully sunk in, he found himself not looking at her. Instead, he found himself whipping around to stare at the person occupying the seat on the other side of him, which just so happened to be a certain Tony Stark.

Who also happened to be staring at him with faint shock in his coffee brown eyes, his lips slightly parted in surprise. His hands were clenched in tight fists in his lap; he looked like he was caught somewhere between being so tense he couldn’t even move, and getting up and fleeing without a backward glance.

“Well,” Tony rasped, licked his lips. A forced grin that Steve supposed was meant to be casual but failed miserably strained at the corners of his lips. “This is a little bit awkward, huh?”

Steve opened his mouth to answer, found that he had no idea what to say, and snapped his mouth shut again.

“Someone kiss someone,” a voice that could only belong to Clint nearly shouted from behind him. “Steve, kiss Stark or I’m gonna do it for you and no one wants that.”

“Shut up, Barton,” Tony snapped, just as Clint emitted a oof of pain, which Steve suspected was most likely Bucky pinching him or something along those lines.

“He’s right,” Natasha whispered, her voice purposely so low that Steve was definitely the only one who could hear it. “You have approximately a few seconds left to do this, Steve. We’re Avengers so of course they’re gonna keep the camera on us longer than necessary, but this is still a limited window of opportunity.”

Her fingers were still insistently gouging into his arm, and Steve heard her words as vague echoes in the back of his mind, because all of Steve’s attention was on Tony, who was still looking at him with his eyes wide behind his eyelashes.

Steve was certain that someone else was jeering at them but all that mattered was Tony looking at him, gorgeous as ever even under the stark, unflattering stadium lighting, in a casual outfit of jeans and a tee shirt that still managed to look delicious on him. Steve loved the way they hugged the curves of his lean muscles and showed off the sculpted definition underneath. There was a bucket of popcorn jammed between his knees and he’d looked so relaxed and carefree just moments before. It was Steve’s favourite look on him, the way he got all happy and loose with soft smiles and easy laughter whenever the team spent time together.

It was far too rare that Tony looked like that, but when he did, it had Steve overcome with a light feeling in his chest, a low warmth that glowed deep inside of him whenever Tony threw back his head with a full bodied laugh.

It had been a long time since Steve had noticed the way his heart would clench in his chest every time Tony’s eyes met his own, the way a thrill would spark up his spine every time Tony turned his smile on him, in a way that made it easy for him to delude himself into thinking those smiles were meant for Steve alone.

Steve had long since realized that he really did want Tony to himself, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise that in this moment, with the eyes of the entire stadium on the two of them, the hum of his teammates encouraging voices in his ear, that he wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss Tony Stark within an inch of his life.

Swallowing thickly, he forced his lips to move, trying his hardest to quell the tremor that was trying to creep into his voice.

“Can I?” he asked, keeping his voice as soft and undemanding as he could. His heart hammered in his chest, and his hands were clammy with nervousness.

There was an agonizing pause while Tony assessed him carefully with calculating eyes, and then he was nodding and relief swept through him in waves.

“Ye–”

The tail end of the word ended up caught somewhere between their lips, because as soon as Tony gave the affirmative, Steve was lurching forward. His hands came up to press into Tony’s cheekbones, his eyes fluttering shut as he pressed their lips together.  

At the first touch of Tony’s mouth, everything around them slipped away, as if the two of them weren’t on display for thousands of people. There was loud cheering the instant that Steve cupped Tony’s face in the palms of his hands but he hardly noticed it. All that mattered was Tony leaning into him, kissing him back softly, his hands coming up to wrap around his wrists tentatively.

It wasn’t long before Steve drew back a bit, giving him one last brief kiss before leaning away. Tony’s eyes remained closed for a moment and then they slowly opened, looking just as dazed as Steve felt.

Steve let out a shaky, uncertain laugh. “Well,” he whispered.

“My congratulations, friends,” Steve heard Thor shout, followed by a chorus of laughter.

“Natasha you owe me twenty bucks,” Sam said, which only earned him a rude noise from Natasha.

“Stop betting on your teammates’ love life,” Tony grumbled accusingly, but the words lacked heat, considering he was quite preoccupied with staring at Steve with a soft smile hovering around his mouth, eyes dancing merrily as they held Steve’s in their gaze.

Someone probably responded to Tony, but Steve didn’t hear it, because Tony surged forward and kissed him again, and Steve let out a low, delighted laugh against his mouth. Steve could taste the curve of his smile as they kissed, felt the rumble of low laughter buzzing against his lips. It was a silly, delightful thing, to be kissing Tony in front of all of these people as he’d been wanting to do for so long, and it ignited something deep in his belly that bubbled to the surface. He couldn’t stop smiling, not even if he tried.

Steve wasn’t even sure if the cameras were still on them, but he also didn’t really care. All that mattered was Tony’s warm breath mingling with his own and the way his smile felt against his own lips.

Time passed, and Steve knew that he’d have to pull away soon, carry on with the evening as if his heart wasn’t about to burst at any moment, but for the time being he kissed and  _kissed_  Tony like they were the only two people in the entire world.

 


	19. Stephtony Blurb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony braids Steph's hair. 
> 
> Rating - T

“You know, this would go a whole lot faster if you’d just keep still.”

Steph froze at the sound of Tony’s voice, just as she was in the middle of shifting where she sat on the floor in the V of Tony’s legs. The protest was accompanied by him flicking her ear. He didn’t exactly sound annoyed, but he was doing her a favour and she didn’t want to push her luck. 

Plus, his fingers carding gently through her hair felt remarkable, and she wasn’t about to put a stop to it if she could help it. 

“Sorry,” she murmured, bumping her forehead softly against his knee in a silent apology before going still again. 

Tony was silent for a few moments, just working his way through her thick strands of hair, weaving it into a tight braid against her head with deft fingers. 

“I wasn’t complaining,” he said, moments later, his voice as soft and soothing as the feeling of his fingers in her hair. 

She just hummed quietly in response, and settled in to enjoy the moment while it lasted.


	20. Rhodey and Sam Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey and Sam bond over their idiot (in love) best friends. 
> 
> Rating - T

“Tony.”

At the sound of his name, Tony didn’t give any indication that he’d heard Rhodey, other than a slight arching of his brows, and a soft, distracted “hmm” noise under his breath. He was leaning forward on his elbows, his eyes fixed on something – or rather,  _someone_ – on the other side of the room.

“Tones,” Rhodey said, a bit louder this time, accompanying it with a hand bumping Tony’s shoulder. “Have you mastered the art of sleeping with your eyes closed? If you’ve been staying up too long lately, you–”

Tony turned to him then, giving Rhodey a familiar smile that was overly bright and vaguely plastic. Most times, it would concern Rhodey, but right now he knew exactly what Tony so fixated on that he wasn’t really paying attention to their conversation.

If it was obvious on normal days that Tony was mooning over Steve, during these Avengers gatherings, it was painfully noticeable.

They were currently attending the monthly Avengers games night, facilitated at the Avengers tower, mostly by Steve and Thor. Steve, who was very adamant on the idea of teambuilding, which was understandable considering the rocky start the team had, and Thor because he was boisterous and loved throwing a good party. These games nights generally were flowing with Asgardian mead – which Rhodey very purposefully avoided after the incident where Clint and the Hulk broke the dining room. Generally, they ended up playing things that Rhodey was certain would shock the general public because of how normal they were; for instance, they all seemed to have a particular preference for Pictionary. Monopoly was out of the question, because between Natasha, Clint, and Steve, who apparently cheated like he was born for it, the game always ended up too messy. Furniture had been broken on more than one occasion.

Tonight, however, was Dance Dance Revolution night, and Rhodey was politely sitting aside, because while James Rhodes had many talents, dancing apparently was not one of them.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He knew how to make his way across a dance floor at charity galas and other black tie events; it wasn’t so hard to take a woman’s hand and go through the motions, to allow his feet to fall into the familiar rhythm of the steps. He knew how to do that, and he did it decently well, according to his dance partners over the years.  

Despite that, when it came to standing in front of that screen, trying to match up the silly little arrows scrolling past with the ones on the mat he was standing on, he was absolutely atrocious. After the first few times he’d been forced to participate, he’d resigned to the fact that he was never going to be a DDR champion. On the nights that they pulled that game out, Rhodey would take his turn, flail about horribly for the duration of one or two songs, and then politely decline any challenges for the rest of the night.

So, there he was, sitting on the couch next to Tony, in the middle of telling him another one of his War Machine stories, when he realized that his best friend wasn’t even listening to him.

“Don’t be such a mother hen, platypus,” Tony grinned at him, nudging him with his shoulder. “I was listening to your story, I can listen and think about other things at the same time, you know that.”

“Right,” Rhodey said dryly. “What was I saying, then?”

“You were telling the story about that time your sidearm malfunctioned in the middle of a fight against a drone in mid air,” Tony said, “I’ve heard it so many times that I could tell it to you verbatim.”

“You could not,” Rhodey grunted. Tony opened his mouth, clearly about to start doing just that, and Rhodey huffed, putting out a hand to clasp over Tonys mouth. “I wasn’t asking you to demonstrate.”

Tony shrugged, completely unrepentant. Rhodey dropped his hand, shaking his head.

“You’re the worst, you know,” he told him. “My stories are cool, stop acting like my stories aren’t cool.”

Tony laughed. “Rhodey, I built your suit. I’m Iron Man. I have ten stories that are almost completely identical to yours.”

“Why do you like to crush my dreams?”

“I don’t –”

“Tony!”

The two of them glanced up at the interruption, looking up to find Steve grinning down at them.

Well, to be fair, he was looking mostly at Tony. Who was gazing back at him just as intently.

_Idiots_ , Rhodey thought. They were both idiots.

“No one’s playing right now,” Steve explained, jerking his chin in the direction of the tv, which was unoccupied at the moment. Everyone else had formed little clusters on the couches and the floor, the room filled with the buzz of laughter and chatter, and had apparently forgotten about DDR for the moment. “Wanna see if you can beat me this time?”

Steve was smirking, overly triumphant in the fact that he’d beaten Tony four out of five times over the course of the night.

Of course, Tony was up in an instant, striding over to the tv purposefully. “Sorry Rhodey,” Tony called out over his shoulder, “I have to go wipe the floor with an old man right now.”

Just like that the two of them were occupied with the game, the two of them concentrating harder than was necessary, but it didn’t surprise Rhodey. They seemed to have quite the competitive streak when it came to each other.

“Want a drink?”

Rhodey looked up at the sound of a new voice, to find Sam Wilson standing next to him, holding two glasses of some golden coloured drink, frothing at the top; with the company they kept, it could either have been beer or something from an alien planet. He was smiling, open and friendly. Rhodey didn’t know the guy overly well, but he was nice enough, friendly and loyal to Steve as well as the team. They’d barely spoken since the team had formed, but from what Rhodey had seen of him so far, he seemed like the kind of guy he could easily call a friend. He was Air Force, like himself, and Rhodey figured they could probably find a thing to talk about.

He gestured for Sam to sit down in the empty spot next to him, which he did willingly enough. Once seated, he held out one of the drinks he was holding, and Rhodey eyed it skeptically. “If that’s something Thor brought, I think I’m going to have to pass.”

Sam laughed knowingly and shook his head. “Nah, trust me, I stay away from that stuff myself,” he assured him. “I’ve accepted that I spend most of my days with a bunch of inhumans and lunatics who can drink me under the table with ease and I’m surprisingly okay with that. It’s just beer.”

“No good can come out of that Asgardian stuff,” Rhodey agreed amiably, taking the glass from Sam. “In that case, I’ll have one. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Sam said, and leaned back, settling into the couch, making himself comfortable. “Not so much into the dancing thing?”

“Dancing I can do,” Rhodey said, then nodded in the direction of Steve and Tony, who were dancing madly on the weird little plastic pads. “That is not dancing. I’m not even sure what you would call that.”

Sam laughed good naturedly. “Don’t worry, I’m pretty bad at it too.”

“Yeah, I did notice that, actually,” Rhodey grinned. Sam had gone against Thor and had lost monumentally. He might even have been worse than Rhodey.

“You  _cheated_!”

Their conversation was interrupted then but a loud, vaguely screechy voice that rang out over the room. Both of them looked up to see that Steve and Tony had finished the round, and Tony was glaring up at Steve rather petulantly, who looked more than a little bit pleased with himself. His side of the screen was flashing in victory.

“I didn’t cheat,” Steve told Tony firmly. It might have been a bit more believable if he hadn’t looked so smug.

Tony was shaking his head, turning back to the screen again, tapping furiously at the controller. “We’re going again and this time you aren’t going to cheat.”

“You can’t just say I cheated because you lost Tony–”

“They’re unbelievable aren’t they?” Sam said, the sound of their friends bickering fading into the background. He was shaking his head with a fond, almost exasperated half smile on his face. Rhodey recognized that look.

“They’re gonna have to get their act together at some point,” Rhodey agreed, huffing out an amused sigh. “They’re gonna be pissed when they realize they’re the last ones to know how obvious they are.”

“Idiots,” Sam said, but his voice wasn’t harsh or cruel, just coloured with affectionate disbelief. Rhodey could appreciate the sentiment.

“They’ll be good together,” Rhodey said, settling back into his seat. “Once they figure it out.”

“They’ll drive the rest of us nuts,” Sam pointed out. He wasn’t wrong. They were infuriating to be around sometimes, painful to watch when they were mooning over each other, and even more painful when they fought like their lives depended on it.

“Probably,” Rhodey agreed, but then he thought of how often he’d seen Tony with circles heavy under his eyes and his mouth straining to smile a smile that could never reach his eyes. He recalled the low, consistent worry he had gotten used to burning low in his gut when things were especially rough. He recalled Tony after Afghanistan, after the ordeal with Obie, after New York.

Then he thought about how he much lighter he seemed around Steve, the fact that the genuine smile Tony got when he was with him was the one he’d only seen used on either Pepper or himself.

Tony had been to hell and back, and Rhodey could handle a little bit of him being infuriating with Steve if it meant his best friend had someone in his life that made him smile like that.

“As long as he’s happy, though,” Rhodey continued, watching Tony fumble his way through the routine they were doing at the moment, stomping his feet wildly to garish electronic music. “I couldn’t care less.”

 


	21. Dark Vadar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nerdy superfamily breakfast routine, based on [this commercial](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=30ZnGcgVTLY). Featuring Steve and Tony doing Star Wars impressions and Peter not being able to pronounce "Darth Vadar." 
> 
> Rating - T

Steve woke up to the feeling of a small body colliding with his stomach and a warm, damp mouth pressing an audible, smacking kiss onto his cheek.

He let out a sleepy groan and, not even opening his eyes, grabbed the squirming three-year-old that had just pounced on him, and tucked him into a rather constricting embrace.

“Not it,” came a gruff voice from beside him, raspy with sleep. Steve stretched out one foot and nudged Tony’s leg. Tony just grunted sleepily.

“Feed me,” a tiny, familiar voice demanded cheerfully. The command was accompanied by two tiny hands squishing Steve’s cheeks.

Steve creaked his eyes open slowly. Peter was perched on his chest, leaning over Steve with a wide grin plastered across his face. He was still smooshing Steve’s cheeks together.

“Feed me, Papa,” he said, switching to patting Steve all over his face. “’m hungry.”

“No can do, Peteroo,” Steve said regretfully. Shrugging his shoulders, he closed his eyes again and feigned a snore.  

“Papa,” Peter whined, his voice dropping into a petulant register. The face patting grew more insistent. “Papa come on. Wake up. ‘m hungry.”

Steve’s eyes flew open. “You’re hungry?” he asked, letting his features arrange themselves into faux shock.

Petter nodded.

With that Steve sat up suddenly, earning himself a squawk from Peter, who went tumbling down onto the bed with a delighted laugh. “Well why didn’t you  _say_  so?” Steve demanded, throwing off the blankets with gusto and leaping to his feet. He reached down and grabbed Peter, tucking his giggling son under his arms and swiftly making way for the door. “Tony get up, this is an emergency, we have to feed the Petey-bear immediately.”

“Get up, get up, Daddy,” Peter called out around a fit of giggles just as they stepped out of the bedroom. They passed just out of earshot when Tony let out another sleepy grunt.

In the kitchen, Steve plopped Peter down in a chair and set him up with his Hawkeye sippy cup, a colouring book, and some orange juice, while he set off to start making pancakes. Blueberry, as Peter reminded him sternly. Their Saturday morning tradition.

Steve was just pouring the first lot of batter into the pan when Tony emerged, shuffling into the kitchen with monumental bed head and still sleep bleary eyes. His pajamas were rumpled, the plaid ones Steve had bought him for Christmas one year, and he had a red indent on his cheek from laying on his arm.

“Daddy’s up,” Peter announced happily, wiggling happily in his chair.

“Sure am, baby,” Tony said around a yawn, shuffling over to plant a kiss on the top of Peter’s head. Then, he went over to Steve, stood behind him and pressed his forehead into the center of his back, wrapping both arms loosely around his waist.

“Morning,” he murmured into the fabric of Steve’s shirt, who felt the pleasant, vibrating hum of his voice faintly rumbling against his skin.

He reached his free hand up to squeeze one of Tony’s hands in an affectionate gesture, his fingers lingering there for a long moment. “Morning, honey.”

“Daddy, come help me colour Hulk,” Peter called out, effectively interrupting the moment.

Tony let out a little laugh and squeezed Steve’s waist. “Duty calls,” he said, squeezing Steve’s waist one more time before backing away.

It wasn’t long before Steve had finished up the last of the batter and was requesting that Tony and Peter put the colouring book away and start setting the table. That task was easier said than done; Peter put up quite the fight for someone who had only minutes before been demanded that breakfast be served right away. Thankfully, Tony managed to avoid a Peter Meltdown by reminding him that Papa had made his favourite pancakes, and all he had to do was get the syrup and help Daddy put some plates on the table before he could eat them. He was suddenly very enthusiastic about breakfast again after that, and scurried off to do what his dad had requested.

Once the table was set and Peter was in his chair between Tony and Steve’s seats, wiggling excitedly and patting his little hand on the table, Steve set a Peter-sized pancake down in front of his son.

Peter’s eyes immediately went wide with delight.

“You made Dark Vader pancakes!” he exclaimed happily, looking up at Steve with a huge smiled plastered on my face.

“Sure did, baby,” Steve said, laughing as he pulled out his chair and sat down.

On the other side of Peter, Tony let out an exaggerated groan. “It’s  _Darth_  Vadar, Peter. Come on, this is basic stuff.”

“’s what I said,” Peter frowned. He picked up his fork and stabbed a chunk out of Vadar’s helmet. “Dark Vadar.”

“Whoa, cool it there, buddy,” Tony said, reaching over and starting to cut the pancake for him. “Let’s avoid bothering Bruce for medical attention this morning, shall we?”

“I can do it m’self,” Peter whined, making grabby hands at the utensils.

“Sure you can,” Tony agreed, but continued cutting the pancakes despite Peter’s protest. “I can just do it better. Enjoy this while it lasts, bud. I’m not cutting your food for forever.”

“Pete,” Steve interrupted, hearing the whining tone in Peter’s voice and deciding that distraction was probably a good idea at that point. He poked Peter’s arm to get his attention, then cupped his hand over his mouth.

“Dun dun dun dun dah dun dun dah dun,” Steve sang, deepening his voice into a lower register and singing the familiar theme song. Peter perked up and grinned at him, the pancake problem forgotten.  

“Peter, I am your father,” Steve growled deeply into his hand, making the impression as absurd as possible.

“No, no, no,” Tony jumped in, waving Peter’s fork with a piece of pancake attached in front of his face, “Peter,  _I_  am your father.”

Giggling happily, Peter opened his mouth wide and let Tony feed him the bit of pancake.

Meanwhile, Steve looked over at Tony with a raised brow and a skeptical expression.

“Really,” he said, “that’s your Darth Vadar impression?”

“What,” Tony grunted, stabbing his own pancake and shoving a piece in his mouth. “That was a good impression. Better than yours.”

“Please,” Steve laughed, “I wasn’t even around when that thing came out and my impression was better than yours. That’s sad.”

“Listen,  _dearest husband_ ,” Tony accused, pointing at Steve with his fork. “Just because you make delicious, nerdy pancakes, doesn’t mean you get to insult people’s impressions at the breakfast table.”

“Sure I can,” Steve shrugged, completely unapologetic. “Especially if they’re horrible.”

“Daddys,” Peter piped up, making them both turn to him. His childlike voice was lower than usual and his face was all scrunched up in concentration. “You are m’ fathers.”

Tony burst out laughing, and Steve found himself letting out an involuntary snort, grinning stupidly down at Peter, who was now beaming happily at them both.

“I stand corrected,” Tony said, leaning over to press a kiss onto the top of Peter’s head. “Our son does the best Vadar impression, hands down.”

“Agreed,” Steve said, leaning down to blow a raspberry on Peter’s cheek, making him squeal happily with delight and push him away in protest. “Peter wins, no competition.”

 


	22. Costume Swap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on [this fan art](http://kelslk-art.tumblr.com/post/132056667924). Steve and Tony wear each other's "costumes". 
> 
> Rating: T+  
> Warnings: None

Tony saw Steve – or, to be specific, what Steve was _wearing_ – and froze completely, his mouth comically dropping open in shock.

See, when Clint had suggested that he didn’t have the guts to put on one of the USO girl outfits and parade around the Avengers Halloween party, Tony had suspected he was up to something. Of course, Clint knew how to push all of his buttons, and it didn’t take much goading for him to agree to it. However, it wasn’t exactly a hardship for Tony to slip into the too-short skirt and a pair of heels he picked out carefully. He’d done much, much worse in far more public places.

Not to mention, he looked damn good in it, if he said so himself.

He’d thought, though, that the extent of Clint’s mischievousness was to get a few laughs out of Steve’s reaction. Which was no big deal.

What Tony _hadn’t_ expected was for Steve to walk into the party wearing nothing other than an Ironette outfit. With a matching pair of stiletto heels and a determined, ‘This Isn’t A Big Deal’ expression.

Tony was pretty sure he was going to have to pick his jaw up off the floor.

Steve was wearing one of the Ironette outfits. At a party. _His_ party.

There was hooting and hollering coming from all directions in familiar voices, but Tony very deliberately chose to ignore it. As best as he could, at least.

He knew the exact moment that Steve saw him, because his face arranged into an expression that Tony suspected matched his own. Though, he hoped that he wasn’t blushing like Steve was; the faint flush that was creeping across Steve’s fair cheeks was delightful, but Tony didn’t exactly want his own emotions to be so apparent on his face.

Steve’s mouth gaped open and closed like a fish for a moment, as if he was trying to remember how words worked.

“You–” Steve finally sputtered, gesturing to Tony’s outfit with a shaky hand. The flush on his cheeks deepened.

“Nice outfit,” Tony choked out, very determinedly keeping his eyes glued onto Steve’s face and not on the outfit.

Steve cleared his throat, swallowing visibly. Tony could sympathize; he was pretty sure his throat was as try as the Sahara.

“You too,” Steve said weakly. “Bucky –“

“Clint,” Tony said with a twist of his lips. “I’m going to kill them both.”

Steve was shaking his head. “He dared me.”

Tony let out a frantic little laugh. “I’m taking away their internet privileges.”  

“Good,” Steve said. He furrowed his brows. “I’m enforcing the ‘no weapons at the table’ rule.”

“They’re going to hate us,” Tony said cheerfully, flashing Steve a feeble grin.

“They deserve it,” Steve grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. It didn’t seem like it should be possible, but Tony’s throat got drier at the sight of his arms flexing against the shiny material.

It should be illegal for Steve Rogers to walk around in a skimpy outfit around other mere mortals like himself.

“I have to say,” Steve continued, fixing Tony with his icy blue gaze. “They’re assholes, but they did kind of do me a favour.”

Tony’s brows raised slightly. “Oh? And what’s that?”

Looking as if he was steeling himself, like he was going to say whatever he was about to say even if it killed him, Steve cleared his throat again before speaking.

“Well,” he began slowly, his voice dropping into a lower register. His eyes flicked down, tracing Tony’s body from the tip of his Louboutins to the red lipstick he’d borrowed from Pepper. If Tony hadn’t known better, he might’ve said the gaze was… appreciative. Huh. “You don’t look too bad in that outfit, Stark.”

Tony emitted a tiny, rather undignified noise.

Still blushing furiously, Steve held his gaze like he hadn’t just complimented Tony in a questionably suggestive voice, in the middle of a party with all of their friends and colleagues, wearing a skimpy, garish outfit in Tony’s standard colours.

Tony gulped. He couldn’t believe this was his life.

“Not so bad yourself, Rogers.“

There was absolutely no hope anymore that he wasn’t blushing. 


	23. "It's really you..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunion after a particularly stressful mission. 
> 
> Rating: T+  
> Warnings: None

“It’s really you.”

Steve’s face is streaked with grime and blood; there’s a smudge the shade of crimson across his cheekbone, an angry gash on his forehead that stands out against his pale skin. His eyes are too bright, too sharp. 

He’s too far away to tell for sure, but Tony thinks he might be shaking. His hands are clenched in fists at his sides, his knuckles white with the pressure. 

Tony swallows thickly, his throat dry like he’s swallowed sawdust. “It’s me,” he croaks, “I had to go back, I had to get them out, but I made it, Steve-”

He feels the words die heavy and unsaid on his tongue when Steve strides forward, takes Tony’s face in his hands, and leans in. There’s a brief moment where Tony’s swept up in the ocean that is Steve’s eyes, and then he’s falling, kept upright only by Steve’s anchoring grip. 

Steve presses his lips to Tony’s carefully, as if he might break, which doesn’t make sense after the beating they’d just taken. But maybe that’s why; maybe after the rush of adrenaline spitting hot in their veins and the fear of almost death, maybe this was alright. The gentle touch of their lips pressing together, Tony reaching up to cling to Steve’s tattered suit with trembling fingers.

“Stop scaring me like that,” Steve says when they break apart, leaning forward to press his forehead against Tony’s. His voice is wrecked, pained. Tony hates it; he wants to tell Steve he won’t anymore, to soothe away the raw pain that resonates with every word out of Steve’s mouth. 

However, that’s not a promise that Tony can make. So, instead, he clings to Steve like a lifeline, letting his eyes flutter shut as he leans in again, and hears himself whispering a soft apology against Steve’s lips.


	24. Kissing Tony Feels Like Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T+  
> Warnings: None

It’s almost as if his brain goes offline from the moment he leans in, to the moment when he pulls away just enough to press his nose against Tony’s cheek, his eyes closing as he hold Tony close against him. 

“Well,” Tony says, his voice rasping over the words. He sounds a little bit breathy. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Steve lets out a little laugh, presses a kiss to Tony’s jaw. 

“Me neither,” he admits, amused with himself. He’d wanted to do it for forever, yes, but the decision to do it hadn’t been a conscious one. It just… happened. 

“I like when you go with your gut,” Tony says. “If your instinct is to kiss me like that then, hey, you won’t see me complaining.”

Steve tugs Tony closer, hiding a smile in his hair. He holds him tight, loving the way Tony’s body fits against his own, lax and pliant in his arms. He could stay like this for a while, Steve thinks. He can’t think of anywhere he’d rather be.


	25. “Please. I’ve had my tongue in y-”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T+  
> Warnings: None

There truly was nothing better than walking into the kitchen and finding your supersoldier, superhero boyfriend standing in the midst of a disaster zone, at the kitchen counter wearing an Iron Man apron, holding a mixer in one hand and frowning at cookbook he was holding in the other. 

“Honey, I’m home,” Tony sang as he stepped into the room. 

“How was your day, darling?” Clint piped up from where he was lounging at the kitchen table.

“Funny enough, I wasn’t talking to you,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. 

Steve looked up at the sound of Tony’s voice, his face immediately breaking into a smile. 

“Hey,” he said, turning off the mixer. “You’re home.”

“Sure am,” Tony said, sauntering over and tilting his head up to brush a brief kiss across Steve’s lips. “It looks like a hurricane decided to stop by.”

“I’ll clean up,” Steve assured him. 

Tony shrugged. He wasn’t too concerned about that. 

What he was concerned about was the stripe of batter that had somehow made its way onto the crest of Steve’s cheek. 

Which he leaned in and licked off. 

“Mmm,” Tony said, leaning back. “You’re making cake.” 

Steve was grimacing. “That’s unsanitary.” 

Tony snorted, completely unmoved. “Please. I’ve had my tongue in y-”

Wide eyed, Steve clapped a hand over Tony’s mouth. 

“Clint’s here,” he stage whispered urgently. 

At the same time, Clint was scrambling to his feet and making his way to the door. 

“Nope. No. I can’t deal with this today, I’m out. Call me when the cake’s ready Cap, and don’t do anything gross in the kitchen okay? We eat here.”

Tony was still laughing into Steve’s hand as Clint’s exasperated voice faded into the distance as he disappeared from the room.


	26. Tony and Bucky bonding over video games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AvAc universe. Based on the headcanon that Tony's repulser arm is actually a prosthetic. 
> 
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: None

Steve walks into the common room on a Saturday morning after his run and for a moment he thinks he’s still asleep, because he must be dreaming. 

Objectively, what he’s seeing is a normal image. Bucky and Tony are sitting on the old couch they all have crashed on at two am at one point or another, both of them wearing pyjama bottoms and t-shirts. Both of them have game controllers in hand, the two of them laughing hysterically at whatever is going on in the game they’re playing. Bucky has one hand flailing dramatically at Tony, as if he’s trying to cover his eyes. Tony is dodging these attempts and simultaneously keeping his eyes glued on the game, seeming completely unfazed. 

The weird thing about this, is that Bucky and Tony hate each other.

Or at least, Steve _thought_ they did. 

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, confusion creeping into his voice. 

Neither of them pay much attention to him as he approaches. 

“Morning beloved,” Tony greets him, looking over at Steve with a bright smile on his face, his eyes sparkling happily. 

“Gross,” Bucky comments in a monotonous voice. 

“Can it, Terminator,” Tony tells Bucky. 

And here’s the real shocker; this doesn’t cause an argument. Instead, Bucky just grunts and continues playing. 

“Did I miss something?” Steve asks, his forehead creasing in confusion. “The last time I got you two together, I had to physically separate you from each other.”

“We don’t hate each other anymore,” Tony says, as if it’s not a big deal.”

“Your boyfriend’s alright, Stevie,” Bucky allows. 

They don’t explain further. Steve stands there for about ten seconds, waiting for an answer. When he doesn’t get one, he marches over to the game console and turns off the game. 

This earns him indignant squawks from both of them. 

“Hey,” Tony protests, looking positively affronted. 

“What the hell, Steve,” Bucky grouses. 

Steve jabs an accusing finger at the two of them. 

“Explain,” he demands. “I’ve put up with too much shit from you two, tell me now why the two of you are suddenly best friends.”

Bucky still looks off put about the whole thing, but Tony just shrugs. “He found out about my arm and we bonded.”

Steve’s brows raise at that. That was pretty private information for Tony; it’d taken months of them knowing each other for Tony to tell him about that.

“We realized we’re both idiots who got their arms blown off,” Bucky says, grinning wolfishly when Tony gives him an offended look. “We also realized that it only makes sense for us to get along, since together we actually have one set of functional arms.”

“I’m a genius, not an idiot,” Tony interjects. “But yeah, the rest of what he said is true.”

“Yup,” Bucky agrees. “Now move your ass out of the way Steve, and turn the game back on, or I’ll tell Tony about that time you got arrested in the tenth grade.”

Flushing and internally cursing Bucky, Steve dutifully moves out of the way and flicks the game back on. 

“You two are already insufferable,” he complains. He walked over to Tony, bent over and dropped a quick kiss onto his lips. “I’m going to go shower. Breakfast after?” 

Tony smiles, nods and arches up to kiss him again quickly. “Of course,” he says. “But don’t think you’re not telling me the story about you getting arrested.” 

Steve winces as he straightens up, throwing Bucky a forlorn look. “Thanks a lot, Buck.”

Bucky grins at him, completely unapologetic. “Not a problem, Steve. Now go away. I may not wanna throw your boyfriend out the window anymore but all this making out is making me nauseous.” 

Steve rolls his eyes, and partly to annoy Bucky he dips down to kiss Tony one last time before leaving. Bucky makes gagging noises, and it’s completely worth it. 

Before Steve even gets down the hall, he hears the raucous gameplay start again - both of them laughing and making jabs at each other, both of them sounding like they’re enjoying themselves immensely. 

Steve just can’t contain the delighted, content smile that stretches across his fac


	27. Hurt Steve, Concerned Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1872 universe. Hurt/Comfort. Written for #projecthappystark. 
> 
> Rating: T+  
> Warnings: None

Tony keeps Steve safe during his recovery. 

Tony tries not to think about it too much, but he knows that he’s unbelievably lucky he was able to get a wounded Steve out of the street and into the safety of his home without running into complications that got them both killed on the spot.

In a way, Steve was lucky that Fisk and his men left him there to die.

He’d be damned if he let the love of his life bleed out on the street while he looked on helplessly.

Tony tries not to think about it, because Steve is safe, in his bed, and that’s all that matter to him.

“That all, Doc?” Tony hears Steve say from his bed, the words rough and raspy in his throat, so quiet compared to the strength that Steve normally exudes when talking, but still has that steady, commanding cadence that Tony loves so much. It’s just a bit shakier than usual.

Tony reminds himself that it’s alright; Steve is alive. Steve is safe. That’s all that matters.

“That’s all,” Banner says as he puts medical supplies back in his bag. Steve’s torso is freshly bandaged, the air thick with the scent of ointment. “You’re healing up nicely, Steve. You’re lucky the bullets went clean through and missed all of your vital organs.”

Steve grimaces. “So I’ve been told.”

“Tony should be able to redress your wounds at this point,” Banner continues, gathering his bag in his arms and standing up. He looks over at Tony, who’s standing in the doorway, watching them both carefully from a distance. “If anything concerning happens, come get me. Main thing to watch out for is infection. You know what that looks like, Stark. Keep an eye out.”

Tony nods, pushes himself away from the doorway and moves to stand at the foot of the bed. “Gottit,” Tony murmurs, not even looking at Banner as he speaks. His eyes are on Steve, who is looking back at him with pain hanging around the tightness of his mouth, but whose eyes are clear and blue as ever, staring right back at Tony. “I’ll be lookin’ out for him, Banner. Don’t worry.”

If his voice is a little bit too soft, a little too obvious, then Banner is kind enough not to say anything.

On his way out the door, he stops by Tony’s side and places a hand on Tony’s shoulder. He gives him a steady look, and when he speaks it’s low and urgent.

“Be discrete about it. No one seems to suspect anything, but I wouldn’t want to raise any alarms.”

Tony nods. “Thanks again, Doc.”

Banner nods, slips his hat on and disappears. Tony hears the door click behind him as he walks out into the night.  Tony goes to the door then, slides the deadbolt in place, before returning to the room.

They’re both silent for a moment, save for the soft trill of crickets outside the window, and their own soft, even breaths.

Steve’s the first to speak, holding out a hand to Tony that is accompanied by a grunt of pain.

“C’mere,” he rumbles. It’s a request, not a command, and Tony finds his feet moving before he has time to really think about it.

He sits down heavily on the chair that Banner had been sitting in just moments before, and takes the hand that Steve is offering to him, holding it gently in both of his own. Steve squeezes his hand gently, and a thrill runs up Tony’s spine.

“You’re going to be okay,” Tony breathes out on a sigh of relief. At Banner’s words, he’d felt a weight life off his shoulders, but it was only now, with his hands on Steve, that he was allowing himself to believe it. Steve was warm and solid against his own skin, his breaths a little bit broken and the lines of pain were still carved in deep grooves on his face when he moved too suddenly, but he was okay. His skin was regaining colour, his grip regaining strength.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me,” Steve says, giving him a wry little smile.

Tony shakes his head. “You bastard. You keep on getting better, or I’ll have to kill you myself,” Tony grunts. He pretends his voice doesn’t break over the words, but he knows Steve hears it.

Steve laughs softly, which tapers off into a grunt of pain from the movement. “Well if that doesn’t defy the laws of logic, then I don’t know what does.”

Instead of answering, Tony finds himself reaching his free hand up to Steve’s face, his fingertips light on the curve of his cheek. Steve falls silent, and Tony’s fingers linger there for a long moment, before his palm flattens out against the side of Steve’s face, cradling his cheek. Steve’s eyes flutter shut, and he leans into the touch, a contented sigh falling from his lips.

Not for the first time, Tony found himself memorizing the planes of Steve’s face; the way his hair fell over his forehead, the stubborn set of his mouth, the strong line of his jaw. Tony brushes his thumb across Steve’s cheekbone, his own calloused skin rough against the softness of Steve’s face.

Tony loves this man more than he’d ever thought was possible. He wants to hold him close for as long as Steve allows it, to run his fingers through the hair that spills across his forehead like sunlight. Even in the dimness of Tony’s room in the middle of the night, Steve himself is like the sun; his presence fills the room so easily, and Tony feels warm to his core with Steve within reach.

He wants this, only this, forever.

“Instead of staring at me,” Steve murmurs, eyes still closed, pulling Tony out of his thoughts, “why don’t you get in bed with me?”

Tony snorts and drops his hand. Steve’s eyes open and suddenly he’s being smirked at. He feels his own smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

“You trying to proposition me, Sheriff?” Tony asks. He stands up, pulls his clothes off until he’s standing there in his undergarments, not too concerned with finding night clothing at the moment.

“Can’t imagine I could make the most desirable proposition at the moment,” Steve drawls. “Unless you’re up for me lying very, very still and not doing much.”

“So, like normal?” Tony quips, leaning over to put out the lamp on the bedside table.

Steve laughs, and Tony’s heart flutters in his chest at the sound.

He crosses the room and slips into his side of the bed, moving under the blankets until he’s pressed against Steve’s side. Carefully, he helps Steve shift from a seated position, to laying down, before carefully curling against Steve’s side and pulling the blankets over them.

“Sounds like I’ll need to improve my lovemaking skills when I’m recovered,” Steve says.

Tony muffles a laugh against his shoulder and presses a kiss there, soft and brief. “You’re fine,” he answers, “you’re an excellent lover, Rogers.”

“Glad to hear it,” Steve responds.

Tony scoots up in the bed, until his face is hovering over Steve’s. He brushes a kiss onto his cheek, before moving to Steve’s mouth, kissing him sweetly. Steve hums into the kiss, reciprocating gently. Tony lingers, his hands finding his way onto the ridges of Steve’s abdomen, where he can feel each shaking breath under his fingertips.

“Rest,” Tony says as he pulls away, falling onto the pillow. His hand stays where it’s resting on Steve’s stomach; he can’t hold him in the way that he wants to, so this will have to do for now. A reminder that Steve is alive, with him, in his bed. “We’ll have time tomorrow.”

“For what?” Steve asks. His voice is already fading, slipping into sleep.

“Anything,” Tony whispers.

Steve doesn’t answer, and within a few moments, the room is filled with the sound of Steve’s breath evening out in sleep.

Tony stays awake for a while, breathing in and out with Steve as if they are connected, his chest filled with a hopeful, contented warmth.

Steve is safe, and here with him, and he knows the world outside isn’t perfect and will work against them, but they’ll deal with it together.


	28. "Masturbating in a weird place"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Explicit   
> Warnings: None

Tony has his hand wrapped around himself, his hand slick with pre come as he strokes steadily, his toes curling against the cold floor of his shop as he fists his hand around his cock. His head is tipped back, his free hand braced against the side of his desk, his eyes closed. He’s teasing himself; bringing himself to the brink and then holding off, thinking about blond hair and broad hands holding him still.

“Well,” a voice says, snapping Tony into the present with a gasp on his tongue. “Looks like you’re having fun without me.”

Tony groans, his hand slowing but not stopping, and he opens his eyes to see Steve hovering a few feet away. He’s looking at Tony with a quirk in his brow, his eyes intent on Tony, who is sitting in one of his desk chairs with his pajama pants shoved down around his ass, his cock in hand. 

“Thought you were asleep,” Tony pants. 

“I was,” Steve murmurs, stepping closer. “I woke up and you were gone.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Tony says. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Steve snorts softly. He’s standing in front of Tony now, his eyes so fiercely blue and focused on Tony, like he’s the only thing in the world right now. “I don’t think this qualifies as disturbing me.”

When Steve drops to his knees in front of him, Tony’s hand falters and his breath catches. Steve swats his hand away and takes Tony’s cock in his hand, firm and steady on his shaft. Tony can’t help the pitiful groan that tears out of him. 

“Next time,” Steve says, slowly stroking Tony. “Wake me up.” 

With that, Steve’s mouth falls open and Tony loses all coherent thoughts.


	29. "Who did this to you?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 616 AU in which Steve time travels to meet Civil War Tony. Not a fix it. 
> 
> Rating: T+  
> Warnings: vague descriptions of past violence.

When he landed, it felt the same as all the other times; the force jolting through his bones, resonating through his core. He grunted, his vision whiting out for a long, disorienting moment, his hand shooting out to brace against the nearest wall, all but slumping against as he fought to regain his balance. 

Once the dizziness started to pass, his vision began to focus as he blinked away the blurriness and disorientation. 

Before his vision fully returned, he knew exactly where he was. He’d been in Tony’s shop enough to recognize it in an instant.

It looked pretty similar to how it did that morning when he’d been in there, but there were enough differences around the room that told him that he wasn’t in the same time that he had been when he’d spoken to Tony in his shop earlier. Things had been added or moved, enough that it was all recognizable, but unfamiliar. 

Gathering himself and straightening up as he felt the strength return to his body, he heaved in a deep breath and made his way over to the nearest screen. A quick look up in the corner told him that he’d landed around a year in the future this time. At least he was somewhat close to home. 

“What the fuck are you doing in here?”

Steve’s head snapped up at the familiar voice, which was hard and brittle in his ears. His eyes met Tony’s, and for a single moment he felt relief pass through him. 

Then, he saw Tony’s face. 

He was in his suit with the helmet off, so Steve could see him clearly, and the relief drained out of him instantly, replaced with something heavy and dark that sat heavily in his chest. To say Tony was a mess was a gross understatement. His face was mottled with cuts and bruising, his lip recently split open, the area around one eye dark and purpled. His mouth was curled into a grimace, his eyes a mixture of anger and exhaustion. 

When he stepped forward, the grimace deepened and Tony made a quiet noise of pain, which told Steve that there were many more injuries that he couldn’t see.

“Oh my god, Tony. What happened?” Steve straightened up, his concern plain in his voice. 

At Steve’s voice, though, Tony’s glare deepened, and something in the rawness of it kept Steve from running forward to Tony’s side. Something in Tony’s eyes told him that that was the last thing he wanted Steve to do. 

“How did you even get here? You’re supposed to be…” Tony cut himself off with a sharp shake of his head. “Come to finish the job, huh Cap?”

The nickname was sneered, like it was a filthy word. Steve felt confusion flare inside. 

What on earth had future Steve done?

He should explain. Tell Tony that he wasn’t his Steve. He knew that, but all he could focus on was the cadence of Tony’s voice and the pain that was etched into his features. 

“I don’t… Who did this to you?” Steve asked, instead. He knew that his concern was naked in his voice. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. 

Steve stepped forward, unconsciously reaching a hand out to Tony. He stopped when Tony flinched violently and backed a step away, his eyes narrowing, the grimace deepening around his mouth. Steve dropped his hand. 

“What?” Tony asked, his tone flat and and hard. 

Steve cleared his throat. He felt too exposed to the tension in the room with his hands hanging there idly, so he crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his fingers against his ribs. 

“Who hurt you, Tony?” Steve asked again. 

Tony flinched again, something pained flashing across his face. “I didn’t realize that we were in a place where practical jokes were a good idea. Or maybe you’re more cruel than I thought?”

“Tony,” Steve said, his voice low and urgent. 

“I didn’t think this was your style, Steve,” Tony said tiredly, passing a hand over his face and letting out a broken, humourless chuckle. “But alright. You’ve come to admire your handiwork?”

“Tony?” Confusion curled in Steve’s gut, mingling with a ball of dread that was hardening in his gut. 

Tony turned his hard gaze on Steve; his eyes were so blue against his bloodshot whites of his eyes. Steve felt his stare burning under his skin, kindling in his bones. 

“You did this, Steve,” he said, his voice too quiet for the impact it had on Steve, like a physical blow to the face. “You did.”


End file.
